


The Unbroken Cycle

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Family, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, Grief/Mourning, Heart Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Just in here," Lisa said, gesturing to a door. "The doctors think that he may not last much longer."</p>
  <p>"Thank you," Henry said with a small smile, letting himself into Abe's room.</p>
</blockquote><p>Henry might be immortal, but Abe isn't. Dying conversations, they're not something that Henry, even in his age, never gets used to. And he might not have Abigail to turn to, but he does have a certain Detective instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unbroken Cycle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [30 Day Drabble Challenge - Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523689) by [idelthoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts). 



> I was talking to someone on AO3 about this and, after much fuss, I managed to sit down and write it tonight. Also, big kudos to idelthoughts, because I probably wouldn't have ever written this if she hadn't written a chapter in her 30 Day Drabble that involved the topic of Abe's death, too. If you haven't read the story that's listed here from Inspired By, you definitely should.

Henry was right in the middle of an autopsy for Detective Martinez when the call came through.

"Uh, boss?"

"Not now," Henry muttered, leaning over the body for a better look. He was beginning to think that the stabbing wasn't the primary cause of death, but he had to dig a little deeper before he could make that assumption. He had already proclaimed to Detective Martinez and Detective Hanson that their victim was indeed murdered, but now he was just fretting over the little details. He had acquired a rather tooth-and-nail habit for perfectionism over the years.

"Boss, I think-"

" _Not_ right now, Lucas," Henry repeated, raising his voice slightly. There was clearly a sign of struggle here, but that wasn't all. He reached for the forceps to pluck at the puckered skin around the small hole embedded in the lining of the victim's stomach.

"It's someone from the hospital. They say it's an emergency?"

Henry looked up then, eyebrows furrowing in concentration only the slightest. "Very well," he said slowly, setting the forceps down and peeling off his gloves. "Excuse me a moment?"

Jo was looking concerned, between Lucas and Henry, but she nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Henry nodded his thanks and strode back into his office. "Thank you, Lucas." He took the phone from him, idly gesturing to the door to ask for privacy. He waited until Lucas had left before putting the phone to his ear.

"Henry Morgan speaking."

_"Doctor Morgan, this is Lisa Bell, calling from Riverside Hospital."_

Henry let out a deep breath only to tense up again immediately. He had been worried that it was a call from his elusive friend, Adam, _not_ the hospital. Now that he had the confirmation that it was a real facility calling, nerves again splintered through his veins.

_"You are listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Abraham-"_

"What's happened to him?" Henry interrupted. The cold ice was settling into his veins faster than he could shake it. All the while, he was thinking _not Abe, not Abe, please, God, not my son_.

_"He suffered a massive myocardial infarction-"_

"Oh my God." Henry's breath left him in a rush. A massive heart attack. He didn't bother to stay and see if they would give him information over the phone; they wouldn't. Instead, he felt the receiver slip from his fingers before he turned and ran from his office.

"Henry??"

His mind was on an entirely different wavelength than where it was necessary to be to speak with NYPD, even if it was Joanna. He blew past them without a word. Not Abraham, not him, not after Abigail, not when he was the only one he had left. _Please, no_.

He ran into the hospital after more or less throwing money at the cab driver, frustrated with the cabbie, the slowness of the route, and _why hadn't he been there with him?_ "Henry Morgan," he gasped, coming to a halt at the receptionist.

"I'm the one who called you," the receptionist, Lisa, said. "I think we got disconnected."

"Yes," Henry agreed breathlessly. "I'm sorry. Can I see him?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes, right this way." She stood up and, after gesturing for one of the receptionists behind her to take desk, said "Through the doors to your right, please."

Henry hastened around the doors, meeting up with Lisa in the hallways. His body was a bundled wreck, singing with twisted hesitance and nerves. "Is he going to be okay?" It was one question that he hadn't been able to ask before, on the phone. If the inevitable answer had come, Henry wasn't sure that he would have been able to physically leave his office. Adrenaline had propelled him into movement, but grief was a paralytic. His heart contracted painfully in his chest, he held his breath for an answer that was sure to come as he expected.

"The doctors did what they could, but, due to Mr. Abraham's age and current, underlying health issues, what he really needs is a heart transplant."

Henry closed his eyes briefly. He opened them almost instantly afterwards, blinking away the prickling sensation. "And such a procedure is out of the question, for a man of his age," he said. His voice was flat.

"There are possibilities, of course; however..."

"Those possibilities are slim." Henry smiled wryly. "I am a doctor, medical examiner nonetheless." And he used to be a doctor, the ones Lisa called _doctor_. "And house the possibility of countless complications even more detrimental."

Lisa smiled sadly. "He survived the heart attack, but there is no way that he can leave the hospital without receiving a new heart."

 _Or dying_ , Henry's mind filled in the blank. He knew that was the only logical outcome to this problem. Abe couldn't handle a heart transplant at his age, even if there were to be one scheduled. Additionally, Abe wouldn't want to live what was left of his life with machines making his heart pump for him.

Henry wanted Abe to cling onto life with every ounce of strength he had. He wanted him to stay here, in the mortal (or immortal, in his case) realm with him. He had stubbornly eluded the fact that Abe was, in fact, going to die one day, and it was going to be before Henry did. But now he was face-to-face with it. There was no more running away from it. He wasn't someone who did a lot of running by nature, but this was one thing that he did not ever want to have to experience.

But, he was. He was now.

"Just in here," Lisa said, gesturing to a door. "The doctors think that he may not last much longer."

"Thank you," Henry said with a small smile, letting himself into Abe's room.

His son looked more frail than he had ever seen him, pale, shrunken into his own skin. He was hooked up to several different machines and monitors.

Henry was taken back, abruptly, to a time when Abraham had caught a very stubborn fever. Try as he may, there had been nothing that Henry could have done to bring it down. In a state that had been too frantic for a doctor to take, he had rushed him to the hospital. The doctors on call had hooked his little boy up to monitors and machines, placed an IV in his arm. Henry could still recall how fragile Abe had looked at that time. How scared he had been back then. He had said that he was so upset was because that, with him being what he was and Abe being how old he was then, it hadn't been long enough. They hadn't had enough time together. Not yet.

Now was no different. _Just a little longer, please._ He had no one to plead to, for he had done his pleading of the exact same nature more than five decades ago. Asking for more than one miracle was seemingly selfish.

"Oh, Abraham," he breathed, crossing the room slowly.

Abe wasn't awake, and Henry sank into the chair next to his bed wearily. "How did it come to this?" he mumbled, gripping Abe's hand tightly in between both of his.

In a childish sense, Henry almost wished that, if Abe had to go, he would have gone in his sleep. Not from a heart attack, not having to witness facing death head-on in a hospital. But the cycle of Life and Death didn't end. Henry knew that better that better than anybody, even though he was the exception to the rule.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in silence, gripping Abraham's hand, his face ducked into his own scarf and tears burning against the back of his eyelids. But he felt Abe's hand twitch in between his and he raised his head immediately, blinking the tears away again.

"Abraham?"

Abe turned his head slightly, eyes pulling open.

"Abe." Henry leaned over. "My son."

Abraham sought his gaze for a moment before smiling weakly when he met his eyes. "... Henry... so they... told you," he mumbled.

Henry licked his lips. "Of course they told me," he said, squeezing at Abe's fingers. "I'm listed as your emergency contact. Abraham-"

Abraham's eyes travelled away from Henry's face, looking at the machines blearily. "... I'm a dead man walking... aren't I?"

"Abraham," Henry started again.

Abe shook his head slowly. "... Time to go, Henry. Not all of us... are immortal."

Henry's lips trembled. He pressed them into a firm line. Then, that didn't even help. He closed his eyes. "No."

"Don't be..." Abraham coughed. "... stupid."

Henry inhaled deeply and held the breath. He let it out slowly, slowly, focusing on keeping it steady, and keeping his emotion in check. "I should have been there," he said slowly, picking every word with deliberate care. "I should have been there, when this happened." It surprised him how much emotion _did_ get into his tone; it wasn't even sadness. It was anger at himself. Yes, he should have been there.

"... Bargaining..."

Henry opened his eyes, looking at Abraham in confusion. "What?"

"Bargaining..." Abraham muttered. "... Third in the... five stages of grief..." He looked away from the machines, meeting Henry's gaze again.

Henry blanched. "I'm not..." He sighed. "Fine, I am. You're my _son_. What do you think I'm going to do without you?"

"... Wake up naked in the river... get arrested for public indecency... same ol'," Abraham said weakly, and flashed a wry smile.

Henry, however, did not.

"Oh... come on, Henry." Abraham tried to move; he broke off with a gasp, the monitors started beeping quicker. Henry was instantly on his feet. "I'm alright, I'm fine," Abraham gasped. "What a... fuss."

Henry sat back down slowly.

"... 's okay," Abraham said after a moment.

"That is perhaps the most stupid thing you have ever said to me," Henry retorted.

Abraham laughed breathlessly. "Sorry." He trailed off for another moment before clearing his throat slightly. "... Really sorry."

Bargaining notwithstanding, Henry was grieving. Already. His throat was tight, it was difficult to swallow. His eyes stung and his vision blurred. For all of his years, he knew of nothing to say. He just dashed the tears away irritably and gripped onto Abe's hand tightly.

The hospital room subsided into silence asides from the uneven beeping of the monitors around them. Henry again experienced the sensation of having time slip away from. No. No, that was a lie. It was like having time _torn_ away from him. It was a sensation he had experienced before, but it made it no less painful.

"... Let me go," Abe mumbled.

Henry sucked in another deep breath and stood slightly, leaning over to press his lips against Abe's forehead. "... I love you endlessly, my son."

"... Ugh."

And Henry was back to when Abe was seventeen, a rebellious, moody teenager like all the rest, where he had tried to kiss his cheek to send him off on a school trip, all he'd gotten was displaced air where Abraham had been standing and a _"ugh, stop it, Dad!"_ before he had strode off onto the bus.

He laughed out loud despite himself, despite the hospital, and Abe's impending death. Or maybe he was laughing because of all of it.

Abe smiled faintly. "... Love you, too, though... Dad."

Henry took his seat again. He held onto Abe's hand until he fell asleep again, and then afterwards. And when the inevitable prolonged, flat cry of the heart monitor filled the air, Henry still didn't let go.

Until he did, that was, and then he was curled over the hospital bed with his head in his hands in a desperate attempt to hide the tears. After centuries of practice, he ought to have loss down to an art. It never did get any easier. A parent should never have to bury their children, no matter the circumstances. So, Henry mourned the last part of his life he had known fading out, a candle burnt down to its last, flighty gleam before extinguishing entirely.

There were arrangements to be made. Henry knew that, of course, but the weight of it still made him stagger as he let himself out of the twisted back hallways of the intensive care unit.

"Henry."

Henry raised his head slightly, confusion layering across his battered mind as he glanced around the waiting room. Jo was just getting up from one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, looking at him sadly.

"... Detective," Henry greeted, finding the correct action to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. His voice sounded weak to his own ears.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't..." she trailed off for a moment. "After you ran off yesterday-" Henry jolted at that, had it really been a whole day? - "we were concerned... Lucas said it was this hospital and I just narrowed it down from there." She looked uncomfortable. "I didn't want to bother you while you were... ... I just wanted to... check up on you, you know?"

Henry managed a smile that was possibly just the worst, most fake smile he had ever plastered onto his face. But when he spoke, it was genuine. "Thank you."

Jo was silent, clearly thinking. Henry remembered with sudden, stark clarity about Jo's husband and he quickly understood why she was thinking so hard. She knew firsthand that, while condolences were well-received, they did very little to ease the pain, and could cause even more hurt.

"Thank you," Henry repeated, interrupting her line of thought. His voice wobbled. He closed his eyes and looked away.

"... Yeah."

He was surprised, then, when Jo came in for a hug. She didn't give him too much of a choice, nor much of a warning, but her embrace was warm and true, and her hands against his back reminiscent of a comfort that he had not felt since his time with Abigail.

Henry let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and hugged her back.

He pulled away first, not wanting her to feel smothered. He was fairly sure that he could have stayed in the embrace for an indeterminate amount of time, given the circumstances. "I do believe I could do with a hot cup of tea," he said thinly, and offered a weak smile. It wasn't quite as fake. He hoped. "Would you care to join me?"

Jo raised her eyebrows, cycling through a wheel of emotion again to find the correct response. She smiled after a moment. "I'd like that. You need a ride back to your place?"

Henry nodded thankfully. "Yes. Please."

Jo nodded. "Not a problem. Come on."

His prior relationship with Abigail must have been wearing on his chaffed nerves. He had to resist reaching out to take Jo's hand in that moment.

"You coming?" she asked quietly, glancing over her shoulder.

Henry straightened up, shaking himself. "Right behind you," he said, and started after her.

 


End file.
